


Ooh, Baby, You Want Me?

by dificultosa



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Lapdance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-03 03:59:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11524104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dificultosa/pseuds/dificultosa
Summary: This keeps happening. Other skaters just feel inclined to give Viktor a good strip show at banquet after-parties. He wonders if he looks like he needs cheering up, though it's not like he minds.[Or that time Otabek gave Viktor a lapdance after winning the bronze at his first Worlds. Chris claimed it was tradition.]





	Ooh, Baby, You Want Me?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neuroglam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neuroglam/gifts).



Viktor had done his duty at the banquet and he was ready for the actual fun and drinking portion of the evening. It was his fifth consecutive gold at the Worlds and he should celebrate. He found Chris standing out on the sidewalk.

“Seen any taxis? Or is this one of those cities you have to call?” Viktor asked.

“No, I’ve seen some. We’re waiting on Otabek, he’s on the phone.” Chris snickered.  “I think he wanted his coach to tell him to return to the hotel, not tell him to socialize.”

“He seemed shy. It’s his first season, right?”

Chris nodded. “But he was overdue.”

“He did well.”

“Very well! And he speaks French, so you can inflict your French on him instead.”

“Inflict?!”

“I mean practice. That’s what I meant. Oh, and here he is.” Chris beamed at Otabek, who had snuck up behind Viktor, and asked, “Ready to go?”

The afterparty was at some trendy Boston nightclub with a VIP level tucked away on a mezzanine. Viktor threw an arm around Otabek’s shoulders, pulling him along, while Chris batted his eyelashes at the bouncer who seemed like he was about to question Otabek’s age. He, Chris, and every skater who stopped by their booth to congratulate them, had put away a respectable number of bottles and pitchers. It wasn’t enough to get him or Chris drunk, but it was enough to make them feel cheerful. Otabek seemed content to try sips of what they ordered and to nurse his cocktail, something sweet and weak Chris picked out for him.

Viktor’s attention had drifted to the dancefloor.  But it snapped back to the conversation at the booth when Chris rather loudly exclaimed, “Pole dancing is a perfectly valid dance form!”

“I still can’t believe Josef lets you claim your stripper classes are part of training,” Viktor replied. He shook his head as he finished his glass and filled it up again. And people thought Yakov indulged him.

“They are! I use quite a few moves out on the ice,” Chris argued, “not that you’d know about it.”

Otabek scrunched up his very lovely face a little and asked, “Wait, why pole dancing?”

“Well, it’s traditional. The gold winner gets a lapdance. And I like to put on a good show,” Chris said. He lied so smoothly that Viktor nearly believed it.

Otabek opened his eyes a little wider. “That sounds … made up.” His voice rose on the last syllable, like it was more of a question.

Viktor went along with it and nodded. “Yeah, and it’s your turn. Chris’ lapdances just aren’t special anymore.”

“Hush, you, they’re magical and you’re blessed.” Chris looked a little red. He could never keep up a straight face for long. “And it’s a secret tradition. Now you know.”

Otabek tilted his head to the side and smiled a little, well, more like quirked his lips up on one side a fraction. Viktor and Chris probably were a pair of weird old men by this point really, amusing themselves with pranking whoever the bronze winner was at the time. It would stop someday, the day Viktor and Chris couldn’t hold on to their places on the podium. There was a good chance Otabek would be one of the skaters to knock them off it in the near future. Viktor took a deep drink at the thought.

Otabek stood suddenly and removed his suit jacket. “Okay. This is a good song. I like classics.”

It was Madonna and it wasn’t like Viktor remembered this song from when it was a hit, but he knew he must’ve been alive when it was released, at least. He turned to look at Chris, who was staring at Otabek a little slack-jawed. That made Viktor feel better. Chris hadn’t been expecting Otabek to call their bluff either. 

Otabek maneuvered gracefully around their little table and stood in front of Viktor, the little quirk of his lips firmly in place. Chris had leaned back into his seat to watch the show apparently. Well, Viktor decided, there was no good reason it couldn’t become a real tradition.

He leaned back, put his drink on the table, and smiled up at Otabek. It was a good song for a lapdance, with its heavy bass and sexy lyrics. Otabek had good taste.

Otabek dropped his jacket next to Viktor, dropped to his knees, spread them out, then leaned on Viktor’s knees to pull himself up with a sort of undulating shimmy that was quite something. Viktor was still trying to decide where to look when Otabek placed his hands on the space between Viktor’s legs, managed a spread-eagle handstand, and sat on Viktor’s lap facing him. Viktor took hold of his hips … so Otabek wouldn’t fall. It turned out that everywhere was where Viktor should look.

By the time the song was over, Viktor could feel his pulse and his breathing were much quicker, as if he’d been the one working up a sweat. He could also probably pound nails with his dick, but then that was the point of a lapdance. Otabek was looking up at him through his eyelashes and Viktor was mesmerized by the drop of perspiration making its way from Otabek’s temple to his jaw. Viktor swiped it away with his thumb.

“Well, I’ll be … ” Chris stood and left to join a clutch of skaters on the dance floor.

Otabek turned around quickly, like he’d forgotten he had an audience besides Viktor.

Viktor held on and leaned in to ask, “Can I get a regular dance?”

Otabek nodded quickly and stood up, cheeks flushed. 

When they left the club together eventually, he escorted Otabek back to his hotel room like a gentleman. Viktor barely felt him up when he leaned down to kiss him. Otabek’s lips were plump and soft, like his hair and the skin of his cheeks. He didn’t tear himself away until a door opened and Otabek quickly stepped back. Right. Otabek’s coach might be waiting up for him. Viktor snuck in a last kiss and returned to his room feeling inspired. Strip dancing, yeah, he could use that in his next program.


End file.
